You Win Some
by austintupp
Summary: Retelling of the episode "The Gamble" from the point of view of a modern-day fan of the TV show who somehow finds herself in the episode.
1. Chapter 1

MINE is a hard story to tell. For I can't expect that anyone would ever believe that it happened. _Something_ did happen though. But I expect I should give you particulars so you can understand.

I'm your typical modern day Bonanza fan. I'm in my twenties and grew up watching Bonanza re-runs on television, and am left now with a healthy interest in the Old West and old things in general. Which is why my story begins in an antique shop. I was visiting a rather forlorn one in Nevada- some people cannot pass by a shoe store without looking in, and antiques are my particular weakness. I rarely buy anything but looking is always fun.

It was a typical specimen of antiques dealery- small, crowded, dusty. Just the perfect place to find something amazing for cheap. Except I didn't really get the chance to look around. No sooner had I entered and taken a deep breath, I felt the floor drop out from underneath me, and it seemed as if I landed in a whirlwind of choking dust. At least that's what my lungs told me. When my coughing and sputtering became less life threatening, I cautiously opened my eyes. And could only see dust clouds. Which slowly coalesced into the shape of a man standing before me. It was then I realized I was down on my hands and knees. But I couldn't quite get myself to stand yet for as my eyes focused and struggled to see in the slowly dissipating dust, I could see a very familiar green jacket on the man standing before me. And when I raised my eyes to his face, I felt my mouth drop open in shock. Little Joe Cartwright? He was the spitting image of him that was sure.

"Miss?" he began hesitantly.

I tried to make my mouth work but it wasn't cooperating.

"Are you alright?" He reached out a hand to help me up.

Cautiously, I took it, giving it an experimental squeeze just to see if he was real. He looked at me in surprise.

I said hesitantly, "Michael Landon?"

Maybe I had died and I was in some marvelous heaven where favorite actors picked you up at the gate.

"Umm, no, I believe you've got the wrong man, miss. My name is Joe. Joe Cartwright."

"Mine's Heather." I couldn't believe I was talking to this apparition. For surely that's what he must be. Or a very good look-a-like. A figment of my imagination? Or I had fallen into a coma! With very real, very vivid hallucinations. This was crazy.

It was by the quality of the silence that I realized my coma-induced hallucination had asked me a question.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"Did you need to be escorted somewhere?" he patiently repeated.

"Yes, back home," I mumbled, lost in thought.

"Where's that?"

I stared at him. Carefully and slowly I explained. "I was in an antiques store when suddenly I fell and landed here in this…" I looked around. I was in a _stable_! And there were horses! And… tack! I looked up. I fell though a trap door in a hayloft! I looked down and had a bigger fright. My clothes were different. I was in a dress and… I took a restrained breath… a _corset_. Ugh. And putting a hand tentatively to my hair I found that, yup, it was coifed, if a little disheveled now. I looked open mouthed at Little Joe who returned a very similar look to me.

"Are you lost?" he asked uncertainly.

"I fell through that… trap door," I said slowly, not sure what happened. Joe seemed to have come to a decision though.

"I'll check the hayloft and see if you dropped something."

Before I could remind him that _I_ was the one who had dropped, he swung up into the loft.

I was then surprised to hear a rushing of wind- I hadn't noticed any open doors or windows. Was someone coming in? Looking up to ask Joe, I saw him _disappear_. First I could see the sleeve of his green jacket and then it kind of shimmered out of being. He was just gone. I hitched up my skirt and climbed up. He was not there.

"Little Joe?" I called out tremulously. A thought occurred to me. What if he went back to my time? Would I hallucinate that? Maybe I could follow him? I started stepping carefully around the hayloft in an attempt to find the way back. When that resulted in nothing, I did it again, this time waving my arms around. Nope, still here.

Before I could think of some other addition to my exercise in futility, I heard the stable door open. Some men came in, it seemed. With some very familiar voices.

Peering over the loft railing, I could see Ben, Adam, and Hoss Cartwright gathering their saddles for their horses. I stared so hard at them I thought they should feel my gaze as a physical blow.

One Cartwright look-a-like, okay, but four? This has to be a hallucination. Or had I traveled to an alternate reality? No matter, for things were about to get a lot more complicated.


	2. Chapter 2

AS the three Cartwrights were getting their gear together they were talking to each other about Little Joe. Apparently he was supposed to have gotten their horses together while they finished preparing their departure from the hotel. I was debating on whether I should drop in on them from above and tell them where I think Little Joe may have gone, when the stable door opened again and a small crowd of people came into the stable. Headed by a sheriff. It was time for my third shock of the day- he accused them of robbing the bank and I almost fell out of the hayloft as a couple of realizations hit me at once. First, not only was I with the Cartwrights, I was _in_ a Bonanza episode! And not _just_ any episode but one that featured Little Joe! It must be "The Gamble" where Little Joe gets to be all cool and saves the day as well as his family from the gallows. And we find out the Sheriff is a thieving liar.

Slowly I followed the sad procession to the Sheriff's office- unsure of what to do. What would happen to the Cartwrights if Little Joe wasn't here? The Sheriff made no mention of a missing member of their party and the Cartwrights said nothing too. Perhaps the Sheriff was afraid the townsfolk would believe he had the wrong men if he claimed there had been four bank robbers.

As the Cartwrights were herded into the jailhouse, I stood watching from across the street. Little Joe may be gone indefinitely so I would have to try and fix this myself. I knew who did it. And I knew where incontrovertible evidence lay. In the sheriffs office! Maybe I could go into the saloon and stir up some people to look into that file cabinet. Or maybe not. Me going into the saloon didn't really seem like a good idea actually. Ladies weren't supposed to go in there right? Maybe if I could just bring the evidence to them that would distract them from my unladylike behavior. Which would apparently include stealing. Well it can't be helped.

I had to wait around outside the jailhouse for the Sheriff and his deputies to leave. A task made harder since apparently, ladies can't lean on posts and stare. So after my first few puzzled and contemptuous glances, I had to walk back and forth in a lady-like and dithering way, but I always kept the jailhouse in view. Finally they left and headed down the street. And so I took my confidence and headed for the door. Thank goodness they left it unlocked and I slipped inside.

Though I wanted to jump up and down screaming "I'm in a jailhouse in the Old West with the Cartwrights behind the door!" I put my mind resolutely to business and grabbed a set of keys in a drawer in the Sheriff's desk. I figured I could grab the money and the incriminating saddlebag and not leave the Sheriff with a leg to stand on. Unfortunately none of the keys fit in the safe.

"Oh… dadburn it," I muttered as I searched for more keys. But just as I had set the useless ones in the drawer, the door to the jailhouse opened and the Sheriff and his deputies came in!

We all stared at each other in shock. A vague wish to hallucinate myself into disappearing flitted across my brain but not much else did. The Sheriff spoke first.

"Are you looking for me, Miss?" Seeing as how I was standing behind his desk, a little giggle wanted to escape my throat. "Yes, Sheriff, and I thought you might be under your desk," I might have said. But I didn't. Instead I nodded.

"What fer?" The Sheriff continued his interrogation.

I cleared my throat of the giggles. "I wanted to speak to your _alleged _bank robbers." And if a note of sarcasm entered my voice, I couldn't help it.

"And who might you be to them, miss?"

"A friend of the family." I couldn't very well say "a fan."

A shadow of concern crossed the Sheriff's face. Champions of the Cartwrights would not suit his purpose at all.

"I'm not sure…" he began.

"But I am," I remarked. "And I really need to speak to them, Sheriff," I managed in haughty tones as I walked confidently to the door that led to the cells.

The Sheriff gave a little shrug and reached for the door to hold it open for me. But just as he was about to step inside with me, I pushed the door closed with a murmured, "Privately, if you don't mind." And then I turned around.

The Cartwrights were looking expectantly at me. But my eyes had to linger on each of their faces before I could allow myself to speak. Their eyes were so expressive- Adam's intelligence, Ben's kindness and wisdom, and Hoss's good-natured ness- all looking at me and evaluating me in their own way. I stepped close to the bars and motioned for the Cartwrights to come closer. I knew that Sheriff had to be listening at the door but fortunately I had noticed how thick they were and I wasn't about to make it easy for him.

It was Adam who spoke first. "Who are you?" he asked. And there was a peculiar emphasis on "are" as if they had overheard me in the Sheriff's office and had been wondering what my game was.

"My name's Heather," I said softly. "You don't know me, but I kinda know you. Your reputation," I added hastily. "And I know you didn't do it. In fact, I know who did- the Sheriff and his deputies."

"You're saying the Sheriff stole the money and then lied about us?" Ben queried in his gravelly, no-nonsense voice.

"Yes," I said, slightly relieved. I was half-afraid they would laugh. "You see, he saw you ride in last night and noticed the brand on your saddlebags. So they made up a similar saddlebag to frame you and robbed the bank. The fake saddlebag and the money are in their office." I pointed empathically towards the door.

"How do you know this?" Hoss piped in this time.

"Ummm," I began convincingly. What could I say? I saw it on TV? "I saw it."

"You're a witness?" Adam asked.

"I overheard it," I brilliantly amended.

"You were there?" Adam persisted.

"Look, you can't really rely on me as a witness." After all, I was a stranger in town with absolutely no credentials or a history even. "But I'm telling you the truth, and we've got to prove it or the Sheriff will see you hang."

"Now Miss," Ben began in his reasonable voice, "the Sheriff has been nothing but fair and courteous so far, we need more to go on before we start making accusations."

I sighed. If the Sheriff was guilty, and I knew he was, I could never get him to just open the safe in front of witnesses. He'll say he lost the key or something and dither until he could secrete the evidence away. I needed the Cartwrights help, but I had to get them out of jail first. But Ben distracted my thoughts.

"Anyways, I have this proof of purchase for the money so we can prove that money is ours."

I looked at him sorrowfully. "And who are you going to tell? The Sheriff? He's just going to tear it up and deny you ever gave it to him. Please listen to me, one of you needs to escape. There is no other way. And then he can round up…"

Here the opening of the door interrupted me. The Sheriff was stopping our little tete a tete.

"Time's up Miss," he said with no preamble.

I looked at the Cartwrights frantically. "At the trial," I said ambiguously. Since Little Joe escaped during an impromptu fist fight during the trial, I figured I would make sure another Cartwright would get out this time. I would just have to hope I could pull it off.


	3. Chapter 3

HAVING spent an extremely restful night on scratchy straw in a stuffy and hot hayloft, I was waiting near the saloon for the trial to begin. They wouldn't let women into the trial but I figured I just needed to wait until the fight and then no one would care if I walked in.

Listening from the outside, the trial proceeded much as I knew it would. Ben would see how the Sheriff betrays him once the subject of the bill of sale comes up. Then a small shouting match over that would start the fist fight. I waited.

The sound of raised voices and the screech of chairs being pushed back flagged my attention. I peeked through the swinging doors and saw fists flying. And there was Adam closest to me. Hurriedly I ran in and grabbed his arm. It was a good thing my grip was tight for the first thing he tried to do was fling me off. But when he saw it was me, he hesitated and that was all I needed. I pulled him forcefully to the door and out into the street.

"What are you doing?" he yelled, as I led him towards the horse that was conveniently tethered by the well.

"Masterminding your escape!" You need to run and get support from people you know. And then find Stan! Get the second saddlebag!"

Noises of consternation were starting to come out of the saloon. My way of getting Adam out had gained us more time as people hadn't yet realized he was gone. But even before I could warn him, he had grabbed me and with an urgent "You're coming with me" slung me up into the saddle.

I have never ridden a horse before. The sole acquaintance I have had with the equine species were restricted to plastic ones on carousels. Consequently I have never known such fear as I felt when I was sat upon a powerful animal who was given free rein to run. It looks good and even fun on TV, but in real life or hallucinatory dreams, it was not nearly as entertaining. In fact, if I didn't scream it was only because I was afraid of startling the horse.

"Let me off," I whispered.

Adam was close enough to hear me, actually he had his arms around me, holding the reins. My cheeks instantly reddened.

"I can't," he replied grimly. "I have to get away from this town as fast as possible and then I have to find out what you know."

I gulped and tried not to think about falling and pounding hooves.

It was remarkable that we got away from the town with no one hot on our heels. The town was probably still trying to figure out if we took a horse or not. But as soon as we weren't in fear of immediate pursuit, Adam took steps to evade trackers. And he didn't even need to do any horse tricks. He double tracked and brushed out hoof prints and took paths into the brush and rock instead of dirt paths. By the time he was done, I didn't even know which direction the town lay.

After Adam had settled in what seemed like a safe place that was a good distance from town, he turned his attention to me.

"Well," he said.

"Well, what?" I replied, quite cantankerously.

Adam gave an appraising look at me.

"How do you know us, know about the robbery, the sheriff, who are you and where is Little Joe?"

I heaved a sigh. Should I tell him the truth? Or would he leave me here in the wilderness for a crazy person? Well I knew he wouldn't just leave me, but I didn't want him to think I was crazy. I had no proof of anything I said except for my knowledge of his family and that couldn't prove time travel or faithful TV viewership to him. It'll just prove I was both crazy and a stalker. So all I could do was get his priorities straight.

"Adam," I began in my most conciliatory manner, "your brother and your father are locked up in jail, about to be hanged in the morning. Don't you think you should figure out how to stop that from happening before we play twenty questions?"

Adam opened and closed his mouth once. Then stared at me piercingly. Finally he said in a defeated manner, "What do you think we should do?"

"Well, Little J… umm, I mean we should gather the people around here who know you and will help you and get them to back you up in town. Then we can get that deputy because he's weak and he'll tell you where he buried the other saddlebag. Then right before they hang Ben and Hoss you can pop out and tell the townspeople how their Sheriff swindled the town."

"Right before they hang my family?" Adam said incredulously.

"Well for…" I was going to say maximum dramatic effect, but I thought that wouldn't go over well with him. "For the whole town to hear the truth," I ended.

Adam deliberated, looking at the ground. "Well you promise to tell me everything when this is over?" he finally asked.

I thought about my circumstances. After this was over would I get to go back to my time? Would Little Joe come back? If I told Adam any semblance of the truth wouldn't he just get the Sheriff? (An honest one.) I looked into his intense gaze, and found myself saying what I had not meant to say. "Yes." And I meant it. Oh well. If you can't trust the Cartwrights who can you trust?


	4. Chapter 4

IT was late afternoon and we were back in the town, hiding behind some boxes and barrels in an alley beside the General store. Adam had been able to gather reinforcements from friends all around the countryside in record time. He had spread word about what had occurred and had entrusted the men to gather more men to infiltrate the town, ready to take care of any trouble that might occur. He didn't listen to me much when I explained Stan would have the saddlebag a little later at night and that we should apprehend him then. But Adam is pretty headstrong. On TV, you excuse it because he is mostly right, but now I wanted to bash him over the head. If we didn't get this right Ben and Hoss would die. And maybe Adam would too trying to prevent it. Maybe I would. I tried not to think about any of these things. If Adam was determined to do things his way, so was I determined to save all their necks.

I had hoped that by sitting quietly we would be able to wait til nightfall and the perfect time to ambush Stan. Right after he finished visiting his girlfriend in the saloon.

"Okay," Adam whispered, "this is the plan. We need to talk to some of the town's dignitaries privately with the aid of this Stan and convince them we are not robbers and murderers."

I was surprised. "What's going to make them listen to us in the first place?"

He smiled grimly. "Our guns at first probably. But hopefully Stan and the saddlebag will convince them after that. And maybe you if you'll help explain."

"Of course I will." This was partly my fault after all- I don't know what I did, but because of me Little Joe was gone.

Kidnapping Stan was easier than I expected- he wasn't very aware of his surroundings after leaving the saloon. The visit to the first dignitary's house went a little rough. The mayor was not too keen on letting in a possible murderer, even with a lady (me) and one of the deputies attending. But Adam's gun convinced him it would be prudent to listen before passing judgment, and you should've seen the mayor's eyes bulge when he finally took in what we were telling him. He seemed personally offended that the Sheriff had pulled the wool over his eyes. But as long as he was convinced, we didn't care much if he was angry. The next few visits went well with the mayor in tow and soon we had a small collection of outraged men to make a visit to the Sheriff.

Luckily (or unluckily?) the troop did not find the sheriff in when we made it to the jail. It was locked, but the mayor happened to have the key, and we went right in. No doubt the sheriff and his accomplice were looking for Stan.

When the sheriff finally walked in, the sight that greeted him must have been daunting for any man. The chief dignitaries of the town- the mayor, the head of the Cattlemen's Association, the owners of the General Store and the Saloon as well as some prominent ranchers were all standing about the room. And then there was Adam, seated behind the sheriff's desk with his feet up and his hand laying easily on his gun. And then there was a saddlebag laying conspicuously on the desk.

"We've been waiting for you Sheriff," Adam began lazily. "We need to discuss something with you."

"Look here, Sheriff," the mayor broke in angrily, "did you steal the money and frame the Cartwrights?"

The Sheriff didn't answer, only studied Adam appraisingly. It almost seemed like he wasn't aware of anyone else in the room. He was a shrewd man, that Sheriff. He could probably have manipulated any of the other men in the room, but Adam was an unknown. He probably didn't even see Stan being held by a couple of the ranchers. He couldn't know yet, that the jig was absolutely up. So it wasn't such a surprise to see the final decision on the Sheriff's face. He was going to try and bluff his way out.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company Mr. Cartwright? I should have thought this would be the last place I would see you."

"Hardly likely since you're holding my family. Unjustly," Adam added almost as an afterthought.

"Oh?" the Sheriff rejoined, daring him to get on with it.

Adam wasn't going to beat around the bush. "Open the safe Sheriff."

The Sheriff visibly paled. "I'm sorry?"

I wanted to shout "You sure will be!" but I decided to go with quiet dignity.

Adam flicked a miniscule piece of dust off the Sheriff's desk. "Open the safe so we can return the money to the rightful owners."

Slowly the Sheriff pulled the keys off his belt. He walked over to his desk and with only a slight pause he laid the keys on the desk. "You win Cartwright."


	5. Chapter 5

THE release of the other Cartwrights soon effected, started me off on another series of worries. What happens now? Will Little Joe come back? Will I go back? Did I want to go back? A glance towards my left showed that the Cartwrights were still checking over the money and the effects returned to them. I could step away now and try to find Little Joe. Go back to the stable and poke around in the hayloft perhaps. There really wasn't much of a choice. Little Joe had to return to his own time and place even if I didn't want to return. Hoping I was out of the periphery of the Cartwright's eyesight, I edged my way out of the office and hurried towards the livery stable.

The livery stable was as deserted as before, except for the Cartwright's horses. Really, where was the owner? His enthusiasm for the job was pathetic.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, however, then I heard a footstep behind me. Whirling around, I expected a Cartwright or four, but instead it was a little old man, clearly in stall mucking costume. He looked at me with an engaging grin as if he expected to see me there and we were old friends. I stared at him in confusion.

"Hello," I said haltingly.

His smile didn't waver. "Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

My stare didn't waver. "What?"

He gave a short sharp laugh and moved to lean his rake against the side of the wall. "When you came into my antique shop," he began conversationally, "I knew what you were really looking for. A way to relive the past. Some people shop for antiques because they appreciate the artistry of the past, and some because they prefer the past to the present, and like to surround themselves with the artifacts of that past. Makes them feel they are still in it." He turned to me with an inquiring glance as if he had explained everything.

"Are you saying," I began bravely and then stopped because I had no idea how to end that sentence. "Um, what are you saying?"

"I thought you might enjoy this little vacation, so I arranged it. But it's time to return home now. If you go up the hayloft, I think you'll find there's a doorway." He turned the wattage up on his smile.

I looked up at the hayloft, which looked much the same as usual. "A doorway? And Little Joe?"

"He'll be here the minute you slip away."

"Where… is he now?"

"He won't remember anything," the old man answered somewhat mysteriously.

Almost in a daze, I walked to the ladder that led up to the hayloft. Mounting them, I could only think of something to say when I had gotten to the top. "Did this really happen?" I called. "Were the Cartwrights real?"

A strange dust seemed to collect around me. The man's voice floated back towards me through a great distance. "They are real to you," he said.


End file.
